Take Me Back
by certaintimecertainplace
Summary: Oneshot. An amendment to the Coven finale based on a prompt from theseravy. When Misty is stuck in Hell, she hears Cordelia's voice calling her back from Descensum.


The blade fell unconsciously, piercing through rubbery flesh. Flesh wounded, mind altered.

Harrowing laughter shook the room. Hands fumbled hopelessly to repair the torn fibres of tissue. For every reanimation of the dilapidated frog she performed, the blade fell again, each time more exhaustive to reverse.

Her own consciousness was drifting but the agony of her actions clung tightly to her muscles. Disorientation was familiar and tiresome. The only compulsion remaining was her desperation to revive the fading life in front of her. It was her only reality.

"Please," she whimpered endlessly. The blade fell again.

The tiny limbs of the frog squirmed beneath her fingers as she shredded through its flesh. She struggled against the force of death and drew breath out of it once more. Relief still did not quell her remorse. And the blade sliced through its living body.

Tears stained her cheeks and childlike yelps caught in her throat, yet she could not refuse each time the devilish figure lowered her hand towards the cowering frog and mauled through it. Every movement devoured her sanity further. There was no time to question the purpose of her turmoil, although she resisted it as deeply as she was able.

"_Sequere lucem,_" whispered an uneasy voice within her. The words were dizzying but barely grazed her. Hands slipped and carved.

"_Venite ad me,_" the voice spoke gently and carefully to her. The words reverberated like light amid the hazy darkness she was suspended in. Minute atoms revealed her purpose, fleetingly carrying her mind to the Coven, the Seven Wonders. Fingers danced and resurrected.

The cycle was disturbed, slightly yet sufficiently to sever herself from anguish. The scalpel dropped from her fingers.

An unholy energy surged through her. Her eyes broke open as her body lurched forward. She furiously scanned what little she could make out of her surroundings and thrashed at the arms restraining her.

"I thought I'd lost you," Cordelia gasped, clutching Misty firmly to her chest.

The swamp witch ripped herself away from Cordelia's grasp, her breathing ceaseless and erratic. Veins straddled her hands like ropes as she scratched in horror at her clothing.

"Please, I have to get back. You have to let me go back. Take me back. I have to fix it," she yelled, scrambling over the floorboards. Guilt sat heavily inside her. It drove her crazy as the hellish images circulated in her mind. The frog was helpless to her criminal touch and she couldn't bare it. It had to be saved.

The illusion wore on.

Cordelia wrestled against her blindness to find Misty and cling desperately to her shoulders. She wrenched her body closer and felt the terror shake every bone of her skeleton. She fought to subdue the dismantled witch as Misty struck out at the confusion of her ordeal. Panic tormented her and Cordelia felt helpless to remove it.

Enfolding Misty forcefully within her arms, she endured the witch's sobs as they erupted from her. The sobs were intense. They created fissures in her skin until her body rested limply in the headmistress' arms, occasionally jilting as shock seeped from her. Her hands twitched uncontrollably as her breathing turned to panting, steadying itself in adjustment to the earthly dimension.

Cordelia cradled Misty's head and neck, relief pouring over her as the swamp witch writhed in her arms. She sheltered her from the anguish of her trial in Hell and waited patiently for her body to grow still, hushing gently in response to her cries.

"You don't have to fight anymore, Misty. You're safe, with us. With me," Cordelia said, holding Misty achingly closer. The warmth of Misty's skin was eternally reassuring within her grasp. A sigh trickled from her lips as she rocked the disorientated swamp witch, seeking to calm her and expel the hallucinogenic images from her soul.

No rest. Misty remained restless, agitated. She quivered as Cordelia's palm tended to her sweating forehead.

"Please stay with me," she wept, seizing Cordelia's wrist.

The headmistress nodded at her and embraced her hurting limbs securely. She would not let go.


End file.
